Have You Forgotten Your Angel
by DeathsRequiem07
Summary: When Erik goes to 'die of a broken heart' he has trouble letting go... What happens when Christine shows up and cannot remember anything... or anyone? Rating for later chapters
1. Chapter 1

AN: Okay, I'm not sure… I think that maybe I'll do another Leroux based fanfic with a small amount of Kayish background for when he was smaller… with, of course, one exception… Erik isn't going to be dead… He's going to have told the Persian that he was going to die, but alas, death will not visit our poor angel. And… what happens when our darling Christine gets amnesia during her 'escape' from Erik, and the only thing that she can remember is a man telling her where she could find him? I have another fic called 'The Siren's Requiem'. This first part has a few parts that reminds you of that. You could almost say that that was an interlude into this story!

**Have You Forgotten Your Angel?**

A broken heart indeed… Erik laid in a painful heap underneath the tree that he had told Christine about, the one which he had planned to let himself die under. With the small golden circlet clutched in his hand, and his golden eyes flashing… Erik seemed to be in a rather perfect state of health. That of course, was if you didn't take into account his corpse like state of appearance.

Why couldn't life be fair to him? What was it that kept punishing him so violently towards an obviously painful conclusion… he couldn't even escape early from this imprisonment that he had been born into. Nothing seemed fair to him at all.

He brought one hand slowly towards his mask, letting it rest against the top of it. Never without his mask… never, never, never… He brushed the spot lightly where Christine had blessed him with the tender pressure of her lips… Oh, how he cherished that moment. He had thought that that very moment would allow him to make his transaction to a real corpse rather than a living one much easier. However, that didn't seem to be happening. His heart still ached and longed for Christine, but he couldn't seem to let go. Everything within him screamed that it was time, and that he had nothing else to live for… everything but one small voice in the deepest depths of his heart, pleading over and over for just one more moment. One more moment and she would realize that she had to come back.

Letting her go had been one of the hardest things that Erik had ever had to do, and yet he knew that it was something that had to be done. He saw the way that De Changy had made her happy… he saw that way that joy lit her beautiful angel's face each and every time that they met… and yet… yet… He couldn't quiet let that small piece inside of him that had hoped beyond all hopes that she could understand… accept him for who he really was.

The other part of his heart, of course, screamed that she did accept him for exactly who he was… a murderer.

He hadn't meant… the Siren… And yet he knew that the Siren would no longer sing. The deaths would not occur until the Siren came back and spoke with him once more. The Siren had such and enchanting voice, and such a deadly sense of humor.

He was pulled out of his brooding thoughts by a figure timidly approaching him. Immediately, his hand went to his belt, where his Punjab lasso was securely wrapped. Contradicting his thoughts from only moments ago, he prepared to toss the lasso and give it that ever-so-quick-flick that would kill anyone instantly.

However… something stopped him before the movement had even begun. Before him stood his beautiful, if just slightly befuddled looking, angel.

"Christine?"

She looked at him with only the slightest amount of recognition. That was when he fully took in her appearance. There was blood smeared across her temple, and into that glorious blonde mane. Her blue eyes were wide and startled, showing an extreme amount of confusion and pain. At his voice, her head snapped towards him, and a small amount of thrall entered her eyes. It was as if she were only hearing his voice for the first time…

"You told me to come, didn't you?" She sounded to small and childlike with this remark. He had told her to come and find the ring… yes… but why was she here now, and why was there blood on his angels face? He hadn't injured her anymore… Injury to his angel… that alone deserved death.

His tall and sinewy form stood from it's resting position against the tree. He couldn't believe that his angel was here…. Perhaps he had passed away after all, and this was going to be his own personal version of the afterlife? Always seeing her but never able to touch?

"Christine…" Her name escaped his lips again in an almost ecstatic sound. To be this close to heaven…

"You told me to come here…" She said once more, as the small ooze of blood trickled down to her shoulder. Blue eyes gave one last startled glance, and then rolled into the back of her head as her whole body collapsed into a dead faint.

With his cat-like reflexes, Erik was there without thought. Long fingers closed around her limp waist, and he hefted her with ease into his arms. He started to carry her back to his house without a second thought. While he made his way, he mused silently.

Why was she back? She didn't seem to be in her right mind… Perhaps an accident? And, where was the young Raoul? Why was he not tending to the wounds that Erik was now granted the privilege of treating? Many things passed through his mind as he made his way back to his home.

Entering, and walking through many rooms, opening doors as they came, he made it fair to the back of the house. He laid the young soprano on a soft bed with clean sheets. Though it had been years since he himself had lain in one of these over his coffin, he kept a few in his house incase… incase his angel should ever need it.

With one deathly pale hand, he smoothed a blond curl out of her face, while his other instantly went to the wound, probing it to see it's seriousness. It was a fairly bad wound. There was indeed the possibility that it had knocked her senseless and caused her to loose her memory….

Erik's brain suddenly seemed to formulate a plan all at once. He had granted her her freedom yes… freedom with the young Raoul who seemed to not be able to take care of her. She hadn't bee gone long at all, and look at what he had already let happen! It was obvious to Erik now that Christine needed him, if only for the moment. Raoul, if he were still alive, would come back for her, Erik was sure of this. It would probably take him a good while, however, to realize where she had gone. In that time, Erik would try to make Christine understand… make her care… One had to look past a face, however deformed.

His golden eyes flashed brilliantly once more, as he made his way into the other room to get the proper materials to dress his angel's wounds.

Tralalaphantomoftheoperaphantomoftheoperatralalalala

AN: So, that's it for the moment, and I really hoped that you liked it. Obviously, I'm trying to keep Erik in character. He's not just going to turn into a wonderfully nice; 'I'm not a murderer, and I'll buy cookies from the girl scouts' type Phantom. He's still a rather insane person… but hopefully, Christine can look past that anyway. Raoul will be brought into the story later (and hopefully I'll be able to keep him in chara as well) Christine's character is rather dazed and befuddled right now, so she is subject to change. It depends on how Erik tries to 'convert' her :-P. I hope you enjoyed this, and the next update awaits a stroke of inspiration on my part, and a little urging on can contact me deathsrequiem07 on Yahoo IM! If you want to speak with me on AOL, please email me, and I'll give out my screen name for that! Suggestions are appreciated, and constructive criticism is like a chocolate cake. :-P Done in the proper way, it can only help my story to grow. Leroux based is harder to write than Gerard Gerik Phantom. Gerik is a sexy beast, and anyone could fall for him… Erik is exactly how Joseph Bouquet described him in the movie 'yellow parchment is his skin, great black hold for a nose…' blah blah. In other words, Erik is still sexy, just for different reasons. (lol, he has great hands, a wonderful voice, and enough passion to make you pass out)… okay. Anyway… yea… Email or IM me with any suggestions, and please don't forget to REVIEW!


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Oy… thanks for all of the lovely reviews people, they really help. I'm not even sure that I'm going to be able to keep up with this update for the moment. I'm rather uninspired –sigh- however, I shall try my hardest to update this at least once a week once I get into it.

Part Two

Erik stayed with Christine until he was sure that she was in a comfortable sleep. She murmured incoherently for the first few moments of her slumber, before she succumbed to the deeper depths of sleep.

After a few moments of staring at her angelic form, he made his way to the music room, his hands screaming to play out a song.

VVvvVVvvVVvvVVvvVVvvVV

Eyes blinked open, and a sharp pain shot through her head. She had no recollection of what had happened before hand. She had woken in a pained heap on the roadside. There seemed to be no one around here, and a crashed carriage turned up on its side; she hadn't bothered to check inside of it before she turned and started walking.

She had no memories… no memories but one of a man. Who was he? She tried to remember who it was that the man had told her…

'Cross the lake on the Rue-Scribe side…' The lake… beneath the Opera House… 'By the well Christine… my angel… where I first held your trembling body… oh, my angel!'

She remembered the compassion and love in that voice… that musical voice… she wanted to go to that voice. He had told her to come for him, if only she could remember who he was!

Azure eyes finally took in their surroundings. She was in a wonderfully furnished room in what looked to be a rather rich mans house; so, he was rich? She continued to look around, laid propped up in the strange bed with its rosy sheets. The room was beautiful, and vaguely familiar. She knew that this was somewhere that she had been before, and yet the memories and recollections of the times and events that had passed while she had resided here still would not come to her. She brought her hand slowly to her head, meaning to brush a strand of blonde hair from her face. Instead, she was met with sharp pain as her fingers came into contact with a wound that she couldn't remember attaining. Could it be that this wound had caused her to loose her memories?

She stood and slowly made her way around the room, it seemed such a comforting place. Thank goodness that her battered memory had remembered this man…. This man… who was this masked man? Whose face laid beneath the white porcelain that she had no recollection of, and yet had subconsciously made her way to?

There was indeed only one way for her to ever know. Though she knew nothing about the layout of this house, she felt a gut instinct that nothing within its walls would hurt her for the moment… but she mustn't go to the lake alone. There was something or someone terribly wrong at the lake. A song… a Siren. Her brain screamed with the exertion of trying to pull the memory from the black depths that seemed to be holding it, so she let it slip back into the darkness' grasp. There would be time to remember later… for the moment, the one thing that she was focusing on was finding that man and getting a few answers as to whom he was, and why she had been called back here when nothing else in her life could be remembered.

She walked silently to the door, taking in the fact that the other minor wounds on her body were dressed, and she was in different clothes. Had he changed her then, or had she at some point awoken from her injury induced slumber long enough to help him along the way? So many questions that couldn't be answered until she found him! She stopped on the hallway of the great house, listening for any sound or sign that would lead her in the right direction. From her left, very softly and vaguely… she heard the music. As she drew nearer and nearer, the haunting melody continued to flood into her ears.

Breathlessly, she entered the room.

VvVvVvVvVvVvVvPhantomVvVvVvVvVvVvVvV

Raoul De Changy woke with a terrible headache and a sense of panic. The whole scene rushed back to him in a nauseating wash of memory. The carriage had been winding down the road, and Christine sat beside him, her head laid softly on his shoulder, looking off into the distance. Raoul had had no doubt in his mind who it was the she was remembering. It had to have been Erik…

Christine!

Raoul jumped quickly from the broken carriage, where he had been when the horses had spooked and took of at a neck breaking speed that had finally been intercepted with sharp turn and a sudden drop. One of the horses laid on its side, wide brown eyes glazed over in death, its head turned at a sharp angle, which could attest to the cause of death. The other was no where to be seen, so Raoul assumed that he had miraculously come from the incident unscathed and wandered off.

He looked around, his panic rising as he searched fruitlessly for Christine. Where could she have gone? Surely the crash couldn't have thrown her that far! What if she had gotten up and wandered off… or what if some animal had gotten her and dragged her away? He saw no evidence of the latter conclusion, so he had to assume that his first guess had been correct. How was he going to find her?

What if she had wandered off to get him help when he didn't wake from the crash? Could it be that she was on her way back to him at that very moment, with help no less; he couldn't be sure.

Wiping a small trickle of blood from his face, a determined look crossed into the young Viscounts eyes. He was going to find her, he had to! The only thing that he could do at that moment, however, was make his way to the nearest town and inquire about her.

He had to find Christine.

VVVVPHANTOMVVVV

AN: Okay, that chapter was just pretty much setting up the next one. Of course, in the next one, Christine is going to find Erik playing, and we're going to hear a little bit more about Raoul's search. Yay Erik… sorry, personal opinion… but… Boo Raoul! I've never liked him, and don't ask me why. IM: Deathsrequiem07

Feedback is appreciated, and constructive criticism is wonderful. Flames will be doused the moment I read them, or I will use them to warm myself. Either way, be polite when you tell me how awful it is, and I want honest opinions!


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Well, lesse… no more telling people what happens, I promise… couldn't seem to help myself. Wont do it anymore, scouts honor. Anyway… I know that there is a few of you people who know EXACTLY how hard it is for me to keep Raoul in character (starts snickering happily for a moment) anyway, yes, to those of you who understand, you'll congratulate me on doing as good as I've done. To everyone who doesn't understand, please try to .

Part 3:

Erik was aware of her presence before she even set foot into the room. He continued to effortlessly beat out the music on the organ, while an almost silent alarm ran through him… something told him that this could indeed turn out to be exactly like one other time. He had the image of a pale hand flashing out and removing his mask… that couldn't happen, not this early on, not if he expected to win her. There were bouts of information which he could and would share with her, and then there were piece that he would rather her never remember. His reaction to her pulling off his mask was indeed one of those instances. He just wasn't sure that he could contain his anger if she did the same thing again.

A small space between his shoulders seemed to scream with tension as he continued to play. He could feel her approaching him; feel her inching closer to him… closer to his mask. Insecurity continued to rise, but somehow anger emerged with it. If she touched his mask…

"Erik!" His playing stopped instantly. She remembered his name… suddenly panic-stricken; he turned around with the expectancy of fear on her face.

VVvvVVvvVVvvVVvvVV

Christine stared transfixed momentarily at the man who sat pounding away relentlessly on the instrument. She watched as he played with such a passion and intensity that she was left breathless while his tone switched from smooth and soft music to a rather angry and choppy tune.

She knew him… she knew this moment…

Why wasn't anything coming to her! Not a name or a memory. Nothing but his voice telling her where to go… she couldn't even remember why he had instructed her to come here. She couldn't remember anything, and it was agitating her to no end inside. If she could talk to him, ask him what was going on… maybe she would know…

She watched is shoulders tense, and almost felt a rather strong wash of fear and anger pulse off of him. This scene was so familiar to she couldn't shake it, and half didn't want to. What she did to was try to take it in and remember… remember….

Why couldn't she remember!

She brought her hand out in front of her, almost prepared to touch him and ask him what his name was and end this torment to her mind when suddenly it came to him.

Erik. Erik!

"Erik!"

VVvvVVvvVVvvVVvvVVvv

Raoul de Changy had found a house near by. By the time he actually reach it, he realized that he wasn't in top shape. He couldn't seem to keep himself from getting exhausted, and the close he came to his destination, the more he realized that something was wrong with him. He was prepared to stop and give him self a most thorough examination when he realized that if he stopped now… he couldn't guarantee that he would continue on. Something terribly wrong had happened in that crash, and something wasn't right within him…

To make matters worse… it started to rain.

He didn't know how it was that he sloughed his way through the wetness and the cold, and yet somehow he ended up, not in a large town, but at a small house.

He managed to knock once softly on the door before he collapsed.

An older woman answered, at first thinking that there was no one there. She heard a rather desperate groan, and looked down. Her eyes met with the battered and wet sight of the young de Changy. She quickly bent down and pulled him into her house, closing the door tightly behind her.

VVvvVVvvVV

AN: I'm sorry that the chapters are so short… anyone who has witnessed my writing before knows that they can be short for a while, and then suddenly jump into a rather long chapter! You just have to work with me! Thanks for the reviews (sisters!) and I hope that you are wondering a few things right now!

1.) Has Christine remembered more than she was supposed to?

2.) Can she resist her inner Pandora and NOT yank off his mask again?

3.) Is the old woman who picked up Raoul a crazy woman who is going to cook/eat him… (Sorry, I couldn't help that one)…

Okay, anyway, please review if you read, and spread the word about my fic! YAY my fic! Anyway, my yahoo IM! Deathsrequiem07 OR imp072007.

IM me if you want!


	4. Chapter 4

And as the old woman finished the last bite of Raoul de Changy, she licked her lips. MMmmhmm… Good.

Sorry… I wont let Raouly boy get eat! So sorry for the long space between updates, I'm just kinda brain dead with this.

Chapter 4:

Raoul couldn't seem to gather his senses. He knew that he was warm, and that he was no longer wading through the cold and wet terrain without any sense of direction. He could vaguely remember being pulled into a house…

Memories flashed of him getting cared for; clothes changed and small cuts and abrasions cared for.

His eyes opened slowly, and the old woman's face loomed over him.

Erik stood tensed, looking down at Christine with apprehension hidden behind his mask. He didn't want her to know about how nervous he was… if she didn't know what was going on, he didn't want to scare her by making her think that something was wrong. Everything had to be perfect… everything had to play out to the plan… The plan that he had yet to put the finishing touches to.

Her small face stared up at him. "You're name… it's Erik."

Relief washed through him, yet he knew that he wasn't out of trouble yet. Just because she seemed to be amazed that she remembered that didn't mean that she didn't remember anything else as well.

"Yes, I am Erik." Not a Phantom Christine, not any longer and not to you.

"You… you told me to come. Why?"

So she didn't remember anything? Good. Now she was clay in his hands. He wasn't going to lie to her. The simple omission of information that wasn't previously inquired about was nothing of the sort. This time had to be different.

"Christine, you remember nothing of our previous meetings?" He wanted to make it clear to her that they had had an established relationship before, even if she couldn't remember exactly how that relationship had occurred. He just wanted to soften the blow for her when he told her…

"No…" She said, as if she were trying her hardest to do just that. "Should I?"

"I'll help you." He held his hand out to her gently. She looked at him momentarily. She had no one else to trust…

She took his hand.

"Christine…" This was something that she had to know _now, _before anything could be taken further.

"Yes…" She paused before saying his name. "Erik?"

"I love you."

She looked up at him, blue eyes widen and shocked. She then promptly fainted.

AHH! Such a short chapter. I'm so sorry, I'm just trying to get an update up before I post up something else somewhere else tonight. A short question though, for reference in later chapters. Is Erik's mother dead? Someone please tell me!

Amandathevampirelove


	5. Chapter 5

AN: Okay, sorry it took so long. I'm honestly blank on this one. Shows me better than to just write a story on a spurt without a plot in mind. Oh well. I… I think Erik's mom IS dead… however. She is going to be alive in this story. Eh… a change, I know. I'm sorry.

Chapter 5:

Erik caught her falling form, easily sweeping her into his arms. Someone as… strange as him shouldn't have such strength. It was another one of his many gifts.

"Oh Christine." He murmured, pushing one strand of blond hair from her face before sitting back on the bench, propping her up beside him and laying her over. He awaited her return to consciousness.

-

Raoul felt a warm rag on his head… he felt like he was on fire! He couldn't figure out what it was… where he was.

A moan escaped his lips.

"There, there." A voice said soothingly, removing the rag and replacing it with a cool one. "You've been through quiet a shock young man. You keep quiet now, and I'll take care of you." A spout of cool liquid trickled across his lips, and he opened his mouth hungrily. How long had be been out? What was wrong with him?

"I… I…" He couldn't seem to form words.

"You've caught the fever young one. Shush now, I'll take care of it."

His eyes opened momentarily, taking in the kind face of an older woman. He nodded once.

"Thank…" The word, 'you', couldn't pass his lips. Mercifully, he slipped back into unconsciousness.

-

"You _love _me?" She sputtered, shock ringing throughout her system. Perhaps he had indeed, and she couldn't even remember… and if he loved her…

Why had she come here, if not because she loved him as well?

(A little confusion NEVER hurt anyone)

Erik had not been shocked when she spoke. He had felt the signs of her stirring for quiet some time. He had been wondering when she would open her eyes. Her first words did not even shock him.

"Yes." He could truthfully say that. He did love her… more than she could ever know.

A moment of silence followed, then:

"Erik?" She asked softly?

He looked down at her, golden eyes flashing; some dark emotion laid within their depths.

"What is it my Angel?"

"I, I love you too?" It was more a question than a statement. However… it was something that Erik had been desperately wanting since he first heard her sing. She had confessed… Perhaps she had loved him all along, and now only that emotion had returned…

Better not to fool himself. One could love neither a man that she couldn't remember, or the monster that she could. It was better for him to play this slow. Maybe if her memory did return, the fact that he had not used such a perfect opportunity for manipulation would shock her. It certainly shocked him that he hadn't taken it.

"Christine…" He started to reach a hand out, then retracted it slowly. "You do not even grasp more memory of me than to recall my name." His wasn't a question: it was a statement.

She looked up at him, her blue eyes glassy with confusion. "I can remember nothing, but what else could it be? I came to you and thought of no one else. You love me… should I not return that love blindly?"

His heart wrenched. He couldn't believe that such a perfect opportunity had fallen into his lap, as if God himself were apologizing for giving him such a hard time! Such an chance… and he couldn't let himself take advantage of it. Something inside screamed to him that it would be wrong.

He wanted to prove to Christine that he was a man, not a monster. Not the monster that he was. He had to show her that he had more than just one side. She had to know that he wasn't…

"Erik?" The confusion in her voice pleaded with him to lead her. He could choose the path, and for once… he had no idea what to say.

"You look tired." He finally said, in a near curt voice that sent a shock of tenderness through Christine's eyes. He struggled with himself for a moment, turning his tone to something softer. "Why don't you go back to bed."

When she didn't move, he gave a sigh and took a step towards her. "I'll walk you."

She looked up at him, and such an expression of confusion and pain leapt into her eyes.

"You'll be okay Christine. You'll be safe."

After a moment, she nodded, and allowed him to lead her back to her room.

-

Okay, sorry it took so long, I'll try to have another chapter up soon. I've just been into re-reading L.J. Smith books lately! Anyway, hopefully I'll have the next chapter up soon, sorry that this one is so short and put together sloppy.

Deathsrequiem07


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